


Since Always

by casbean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Dean is an oblivious idiot, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, best friends au, inspired by a Text From Last Night, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4886767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbean/pseuds/casbean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are best friends, they always have been. Or so Dean constantly tells himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Since Always

“He literally stole all the change that was on my floor and ran away while I was peeing. I have to rethink my standards.”

A warm, familiar chuckle rises from the other end of the line.

“Yes, you do,” Castiel says, and Dean can hear the smile in his voice.

He pictures the pink lips stretching to one side, Cas’ phone probably stuck between his shoulder and his ear because, of course, he’s doing something else at the same time.

Dean feels instantly better just thinking about it, like always when he makes Cas laugh with his ridiculous life.

“Up for some Taco Bell?” he asks as he plucks the car keys out of his pockets.

“Always,” Cas’ familiar voice answers, and Dean knows he probably immediately dropped whatever he was doing.

Dean bites his lips to restrain another grin as he hangs up the phone.

 

Dean takes a huge bite into his taco, meat and condiments pouring out of the fragile shell as it cracks open. Salsa and sour cream smear around his lips, and yet again he opens his eyes to find Castiel laughing at him, scrunches around his nose and gummy grin plastered on his face.

“You’ll never learn, will you?” he chuckles. His hands come up and he presses his thumb around Dean’s lips, cleaning up the mess before licking off his fingers, shaking his head and smiling.

Dean smiles too, slight blush on his cheeks. He knows how to eat tacos, to say the truth, but he likes this little ritual they have, of him making a mess, and Cas cleaning it up, naturally, like he’s always done ever since they were kids.

Dean was the messy one, Cas was the clean one, and Dean, without really realizing it, has been making sure to keep those little interactions, those little touches, rarer and rarer as they became older, still going. He feels like it’s an important part of their friendship, Cas slipping his fingers in his collar to put the price tag back in its place, Cas straightening his hair, Cas wiping the dirt off his nose. Dean barely notices now how he shivers, how his heart makes a little jump every time they touch. It’s natural, it’s the order of things, and it’s extremely precious to him.

“You guys make such a cute couple,” a woman, who has been gawking at them for a while now, says as she gets up.

“Thank you,” they both answers automatically, polite smiles on their lips.

Dean shakes his head.

“They  _always_  do that.”

He’s not annoyed per say, but he does get tired of everyone around them always insinuating things. The looks, the conniving smiles, and strangers always saying how cute they are together, as a couple, when they’re just sitting around acting like normal friends. Apparently, two gay guys can’t be buddies without the whole world getting ideas.

Cas shoots him a strange glance above his tacos.

“Yes. Always.”

 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Dean growls, pushing Cas back against the counter, fingers tightening around his wrist. His other hand gropes on the counter until he finds what he was looking for, the bowl of whipped cream. He curls his fingers up, cups a good quantity of cream and splatters it all over his best friend’s face. Cas yells, squirms, tries to push him away, laughing. Dean can feel Cas’ jaw under his palms, his lips, his tongue even, bodies interlaced in a playful fight.

Dean didn’t expect Castiel to counterattack by rubbing his face all over Dean’s cheeks, while Dean’s hands were too busy holding on to Cas’ fingers to protect himself. Dean feels Cas’ warm face an inch away from his, the amusement in his dark blue eyes, before their cheeks meet, warm, scruffy and covered in cream. Dean laughs, grabs him, but he’s not really trying to push him back. It feels too nice to have Cas so close to him, smelling all fresh and Cas-y, almost like a cat marking him with his scent.   
  
That’s how Sam finds them, intertwined in the kitchen corner, laughing, breathless, covered in whipped cream. They break apart when he comes in with a loud “Jesus Christ, guys” and Dean catches something like guilt on his best friend’s face, a dark flush on his cheeks. It lasts only for a second. Sam scolds them for behaving like children, then orders them to get washed up while he makes the whipped cream again.

“Are you guys still pretending not to be together?” Sam questions as Dean splashes some water on his (slightly heated) face in the sink.

“We’re  _not_. We’re just friends. Acting like friends. Why do people always take it the other way?”

“Because, Dean, that is  _not_  how friends act with each other. No friends act like that.”

Dean scoffs, not looking at his brother.

“Sure they do, we’ve always been like that-”

“Yes, because you guys have  _always_  been ridiculously in love with each other.”

“Don’t you think if we were in love, we would know?” Dean chuckles weakly.

Thankfully they’re interrupted by Cas coming back downstairs, and Sam doesn’t add a word on the subject during dinner. He does stare at Cas a lot though, which Dean finds annoying, although who could blame him. Cas is absolutely gorgeous. Dean has always been jealous of him for that. Although most people always find Dean the more attractive one, he’s known since they were little that Cas has something more than just plain, boring attractiveness. Something shining out of his soul through the lines under his eyes, through his wide, gummy grin and his adorable ruffled hair.

And tonight, suddenly, he wonders if it’s really jealousy that’s been twisting his stomach all these years, spreading heat through his chest, a flush on his cheek, a flutter in his heart. Suddenly, he wonders if that’s really what jealousy is supposed to feel like. If it’s supposed to be this… pleasant. Like stepping on a cloud lifting through the air.

When he steps out of Sam and Jess’ house, Cas is already waiting for him by the car. A big hand grips on Dean’s arm and holds him back, and he turns around to find his brother looking at him very seriously. Sam sighs, as he always does when Dean is being obtuse about his feelings, and nods towards the man sitting on the hood of the Impala and smiling at them.

“You may not know yet, Dean, but I think  _he_  does. I think he’s always known.”

 

Dean keeps his eyes on the road, jaw clenched, knuckles whitening around the wheel. His heart is hammering in his chest so hard that he seriously wonders if Cas, in the passenger seat, can actually hear it. They’re getting closer and closer to Cas’ street, and in a minute Dean will have to turn and drop off his best friend, and he still hasn’t said a word about the emotional storm tormenting him.

“Dean? Everything okay?”

“Fine.”

“You look constipated,” Cas remarks very seriously, putting his hand on Dean’s thigh.

Dean brutally steps on the brakes and they both jolt forward, Dean’s belt sinking painfully in his chest. Cas’ fingers dig in his thigh and Dean exhales loudly. It had never hit him like this before. Cas touches him all the time, and the feelings it induces are usually so quickly swallowed down and destroyed that it doesn’t have time to reach… the thing that’s now swollen and hard in Dean’s pants. Very hard. Very swollen.

“What’s going on?” Cas asks, slowly removing his hand.

“Are you in love with me?” Dean lets out in one breath.

There’s a small silence. Dean’s still staring at the road, completely unable, for the first time in his life, to look at his best friend.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

He finally turns towards Cas, who slowly bats his eyes. Dean could swear his cheeks have turned red despite the darkness surrounding them.

“I…”

Cas is firmly avoiding Dean’s eyes now, hands clutched together on his thighs.

“ _Everyone_  thinks we’re in love,” Dean slowly articulates. His mouth is dry. “And Sam - Sam said that I don’t know it, but that you do. That you know we’re in love.”

Cas takes a deep breath, and finally glances back at him. Dean can see a fine layer of sweat forming on his forehead, his wide, infinite blue eyes glistening, his cheekbones now definitely glowing pink. His lips open and close, he can’t seem to say a word. But his eyes, his countenance, say more than enough.

Dean slowly leans over. His hand finds a familiar place around Cas’ cheek, and when he presses his lips on Cas’ mouth, it feels like he’s done it a thousand times. Or rather, it feels like he  _should_  have done it a thousand times before. Cas’ lips part, he breathes in sharply, his fingers grip around Dean’s shirt. His lips welcome Dean’s mouth, firm, smooth, still tasting a little bit of whipped cream. Dean lets out a moan and slides his hand in Cas’ hair, tugging and bringing him closer, as Cas leans into him, opening his mouth, tongue peeking out to caress him. It’s a sweet but heated kiss, a kiss like every kiss should be, a kiss that feels like kissing his best friend, kissing his biggest fantasy, kissing the person he loves most in the world. A perfect kiss.

“Why didn’t you tell me before,” Dean murmurs when they finally break apart to catch their breath. He laces his fingers through Cas’, holding on tightly as he lays another kiss on his swollen lips.

“I was scared that you didn’t feel the same,” Cas confesses. “But mostly I was scared of what it could do to our friendship. I still am.”

Dean leans back, still holding on to Cas’ hand, and examines him more carefully. The boy looks absolutely gorgeous, heated cheeks, flushed and swollen lips, untamed hair and blown up eyes.

“Nothing can ever destroy our friendship, Cas. Nothing we can ever do will stop me from being your best friend. Even if we get married, have four kids, and divorce in thirty years, I’ll be your best friend. Forever.”

A shy smile stretches Castiel’s lips.

“You promise?”

Dean nods.

“Yeah. Always.”

Cas beams, that heart-warming, earth-shattering smile of his, and leans over to kiss Dean again. This time, when they break apart, there’s nothing left but the feverish touch of their hands pressed together. Dean starts the car, not letting go of Cas’ hand, and drives away. Neither of them of say anything when Dean passes Castiel’s house without stopping.

 

“Dean.”

“What?” Dean teases, leaning over the table, milk foam smeared across his upper lip. Castiel sighs, attempting to look annoyed, but unable to refrain the a smile curving up his mouth.

“This is the fourth time you ‘accidentally’ found yourself with food all over your face today. You  _know_  that you can just ask if you want me to touch you now.”

“It’s more fun this way…” Dean murmurs, capturing Cas’ finger with his mouth once he’s done wiping him. Cas brings him closer, laying soft little kisses on his upper lip, and Dean is just about to sink into a real open mouth good-time when they get interrupted.

“You guys are so cute,” the waiter says as he brings over the dessert.

“Thank you,” they both answer at the same time. But they’re sincerely smiling this time, fingers laced under the table.

“How long have you guys been together?”

Dean turns towards Cas, who’s smiling softly at him.

“Since always.”


End file.
